


Fathers and Sons

by azulaahai



Category: Chaos Walking - Patrick Ness
Genre: Bittersweet, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pre-Canon, doggo!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 19:08:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20430974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azulaahai/pseuds/azulaahai
Summary: Ben has to laugh at his husband's shocked expression as he comes walking home across the fields, a puppy in his arms.





	Fathers and Sons

_ It's his last birthday with us,  _ is all Ben can think.  _ Twelve years, he's becoming so big, so grown up. My son. Our son. Todd. _ __   
__   
_ His last birthday with us. His last birthday as a child. _ __   
__   
_ And Cillian has gotten him a dog. _ __   
__   
Ben has to laugh at his husband's shocked expression as he comes walking home across the fields, a puppy in his arms. Cillian looks as though he himself doesn't know what has come over him. The puppy, small enough to melt even the coldest of hearts, wags its tiny little tail at Ben as he approaches.   
  
"Bought him from the mayor", Cillian mutters defensively right away, while pretending as if he totally, definitely isn't scratching the puppy behind the ears as he's talking. Ben stifles another smile.   
  
"He's a sweetheart."   
  
"Mayor's eager to get rid of 'im, so I thought we'd take him on." Ben looks at the pup - the little fellow is so young he ain't even talking yet. He will be though. Soon.   
  
Everything here speaks.   
  
"I thought maybe ... Todd ..." Cillian doesn't finish the sentence, letting Ben read the rest in his noise.   
  
So easy for Ben to read, so familiar, Cillian's noise. Like a room he knows his way around even in the dark.    
  
Men have different sort of noises - some are red, some blue - some are roaring rivers, others seas so vast that you can't quite glimpse the shore - some are afternoons in the sun, some freezing winter mornings. But Cillian's? Cillian's noise?    
  
It's more red than blue, more river than sea, more sun than cold, but above all it is so very living, raging. The anger's always there in the background o' it, giving everything blurry edges and a steady rythm. Cillian. Cillian. Cillian.   
  
Now his noise is filled with an idea, one loaded with more sadness than anger.   
  
"A birthday present for Todd?" Ben summarises the noise, inspecting the puppy a lil' closer.    
  
"He'll hate it, I know", Cillian mumbled, putting on an obnoxious voice. "'Ah, no, for me? 'Ll I have to clean 'im 'n' feed 'im 'n' train him myself?'" __   
__   
"It's his birthday, be nice. Besides, that's a terrible Todd impression."   
  
"I know", he mutters. There's a pause. Ben glimpses what's to come in his noise, but he waits patiently.   
  
Cillian's not one to be rushed into speaking.   
  
"I thought ... maybe ... it'll make 'im feel less alone. Afterwards, I mean. Later." Ben places a gentle hand on his arm, and they exchange a look.   
  
And Ben realises he's not the only one who's thought about it being Todd's last birthday here.   
  
They don't say nothing.   
  
There ain't nothing to say. __   
  


_   
_ _ 🐾 _

__   
__   
They're almost done with dinner, and Ben knows that Todd knows that something is up. He's gotten so good at reading noise, lately, their son. Ben feels a sting of bitterness at the thought. So grown up.   
  
Almost a man grown.   
  
Cillian clears his throat, and Todd looks up at him, suspicious. They're not getting along at all, lately. Perhaps Ben should speak to Cillian about it. The man's too proud to ask for help, but it's painful for Ben to see them thoroughly misunderstand each other most of the time.   
  
"Uhm, Todd", Cillian says, voice a little hoarse. "If you go out to the barn, 'en, you'll find a lil' something for you. A surprise. A birthday present."   
  
"You've'nt fixed the fission bike, have ya?" Cillian pauses.   
  
"No. No, I haven't."   
  
"Alright, then", Todd mutters. (He's alike Cillian in that way.) "I'll run out and have a look, then."   
  
And when he comes back in with the puppy in his arms, disappointment written across his features and roaring through his noise though he's trying to hide it, all Ben can think is how big he's become, how old he looks, how much time has snuck by without them even noticing.   
  
And when Todd insincerely thanks Cillian who mutters something in response, Ben looks over at his husband, who looks back.   
  
Todd doesn't notice, too busy trying to keep the puppy from biting his nose, but even without the noise Ben'd know both he and Cillian are thinking the same thing.   
  
One more year.   
  
One last year. __   
_   
_ __ Twelve years. 

_ He's becoming so big, so grown up. My son. Our son. Todd. _ _   
_


End file.
